


Granny Pants

by Denzer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Granny Pants Kink, Oral Sex, Very Mild Dom!Ben, mild size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denzer/pseuds/Denzer
Summary: Crack Fic written for the Reylo Creative Pizza-Dicking Collection to the prompt of "Granny Pants - big and old and cotton!"  Forgive me!“Are you jerking off?” Her eyes slide to his straining erection, “With my old knickers?”Ben flinches, scrunching one eye shut as Rey steps into the room and closes the door behind her with a sharp click. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, on Rey’s mussed extra blanket, knee’s spread wide, and hand wrapped tight around the base of his cock. The material of her granny pants is bulging through his fingers.He is, most definitely, doing just that.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 52
Kudos: 237
Collections: It All Started With Pizza Dicking - A Weird Reylo Kinkfic Anthology





	Granny Pants

“Baby, I can explain.”

He can’t. There is literally nothing he can say. His mouth opens anyway, as if the action will somehow guide his brain into a credible excuse. But, in fairness, most of the blood in his body has congregated much further south and his frontal cortex doesn’t have a huge amount to work with right now.

Rey is standing in the open bedroom door, fingers loose on the handle, and a little pink bag dangling from her wrist. He knows that bag. It comes from her favourite lingerie store, the one on Fifth that she goes to once a year for his birthday. Distantly, he wonders if she bought suspenders this time. He likes those too, he really does.

“Are those my… period pants?”

Yes. They most definitely are.

“Ummm, no?”

He grasps the material a bit tighter in his fist, trying to hide the faded polka-dot heart pattern against the underside of his straining erection. This action does absolutely nothing to help his cause.

“Are you jerking off?” Her eyes slide to the crepe paper stuffing that’s bursting from the small gift bag, then back to his cock. “With my old knickers?”

He flinches, scrunching one eye shut as she steps into the room and closes the door behind her with a sharp click. He’s sitting on the end of their bed, on Rey’s mussed extra blanket, knee’s spread wide and fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. The material of her granny pants is bulging through his fingers.

“No?”

As he says this, his dick gives a traitorous jerk and the movement of the thinned elastic around his head is enough to make him suck in a breath. He caves, instantly. “Fuck, baby, say ‘knickers’ again.”

“Ben Solo.”

He’s heard that tone before. She’d used it on Kylo, when he was a puppy and he shit on the matt ten minutes after she’d taken him for his walk, or that time he'd taken a chunk of steak from her plate when she wasn’t looking. She rarely had to use that voice now that she’d trained him out of those bad habits.

“Do you know how much money I just spent on a silk fucking thong?”

He can’t look at her face. Instead, he focuses on the tanned skin of her ankle. The frayed denim of her skinny jeans rests just above the jut of bone, and the patent red leather of her stilettoes runs a line below it. His hard-on, which should really be dying right about now, is only getting harder, like it’s looking for punishment. He hasn’t answered her question but she continues anyway, reminding him that she is a pre-school teacher, well versed in dealing with non-verbal participants in any given conversation.

“A lot, Ben. A lot of money. Do you know how uncomfortable a thong is when it’s pulled tight over your clit?”

Ben’s chin jerks up. He’s pretty sure he looks exactly like Kylo does when they eat the fried sausages that Rey insists are a proper Sunday breakfast. 

“Very uncomfortable?”

She drops the bag, unceremonious, to the floor. She’s eyeing his panty-shrouded dick, pulling her lower lip between her teeth as a drop of his pre-cum lands on the back of his wrist.

“Yes, Ben. Very,” she waves a finger in the air and then points it at his cock, “What about these knickers do you even like?”

Ben takes a deep breath. He’s not perverted, he’s really not. It’s just that there are certain days of the month that Rey won’t have sex with him. On those days, she mopes around the apartment in a tank top and these huge, ugly panties. She eats chocolate and pizza and folds herself up on the couch with her hand curled around her small belly and the TV blaring the distinctive soundtracks to her favourite movies: Galaxy Wars and The Notebook and The Last of the Mohicans. There have been so many times that she’s fallen asleep there and he’s lifted her up to bring her to bed, fingers slipping easily under the torn hem so they press into the pliant flesh of her ass. She doesn’t give a fuck what she looks like during these five days and he’s come to associate the drooping pleats of fabric over her tiny bottom with a growing craving for fucking that she only satisfies once she’s wearing her fancy underwear again. It’s a Pavlovian response, really. It’s her fault.

“I like your ass in them. I like how small it looks, how pert it is against these saggy little hearts. I like how easy it would be to pull them down. I like how I could rip them and you wouldn’t care.”

He’s stroking his cock as he explains this. He’s gentle, unsure of her reaction, unwilling to invest in any real activity if she’s only going to reject this weird kink of his. Rey’s still watching him, sucking on her lip now.

“Did you like this before you met me? Is this something you should have told me about a long time ago?”

“No. It’s new. It’s just with you.”

Rey abruptly drops to her hands and knees. His fingers tighten slightly as she slowly makes her way across their small bedroom. She has to do it slowly because there isn’t a huge amount of space in their bedroom. She’s wrist to fingertips so she can draw it out. Through the gape of her red blouse, Ben can see this pose pushing her small breasts together. He takes a huge breath in response, pushing his exhale to calm himself, and releases the material so it droops from his palm. When she’s between his knees, she dips down to bring her lips to the underside of his cock and the faded fabric brushes her chin.

Rey opens her mouth to run the flat of her tongue along him and the material catches. Ben imagines how dry and rasping it must feel against the wet of her lips. He tilts back, pulls the leg opening off his dick, and holds them out to her, eyes dark and mouth set in a straight line.

“Take your clothes off. Put these on. Just these.”

He can tell by the sudden darkening of her eyes that she likes him telling her what to do. He knew this, but he’d thought it only worked when she was already half-way there, when his mouth had been on her for so long that the underside of his tongue would be sore the next morning. He hadn’t realised this primal urge to obey him would extend beyond that time when her clit was so swollen he could feel it against his palm as he dipped his fingers inside her.

She hesitates and he takes full advantage. He grasps her chin, pushing his fabric-covered thumb into her mouth.

“Rey, strip, or I’ll do it for you and I won’t be so nice about it.”

She snaps to a stand, pulling her shirt over her head and sucking in her small tummy so she can unbutton her jeans. She’s wearing lacy black bikini briefs. The edges of the flowered embroidery have curled against her thigh. He palms his cock while she bends to slide them down her tanned legs. He holds out the frayed granny pants, silent and intent. She takes them in her left hand, the diamond he gave her last month glinting as she steps into the huge openings.

He could come just from this. From watching her pull the acres of material over her slim thighs. He could come from seeing the way the gusset sags loose from her mound, no hint at the small cleft that leads to his favourite spot in the universe.

“Sit on my lap,” he tells her, leaning back so she has more room to kneel over him. The material is worn thin and there are tiny holes at the waistband. It caresses his straining dick, pushing into his head with a softness he has come to love. He’s done this many times, on laundry day, so the evidence will be washed away. But now she’s here, arms around his shoulders, grinding against the base of his cock with the knickers he’s never allowed to fuck her in sliding between them. When she wears these, she has a tendency to slip her forefinger beneath the elastic at the back, easing the material from between her cheeks whenever she adjusts her position on their couch.

“Fuck, Rey, hum the theme tune to Brooklyn.” It’s the movie she watches most when she’s sprawled out with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a mouth set for pouting.

She does, lips pursed right into his ear, and he can’t help it. With a groan, he lifts her and turns so her tight ass presses into the duvet and he’s kneeling at the foot of the bed. He pushed her knees wide and hunches between them. At first, he tastes her through the fabric, sweet and piquant, with the bump of her clit soft against his lips. He purses over it, flicking the tip of his tongue.

Rey arches off the bed, knee’s spread and lifting, arms reaching back. He watches her fingers grasp the bedspread and clench tight and then hooks his own around the lax elastic of the leg-hole. She’s spread open before him, dark pink and glistening. The material bunches in the crease of her thigh when she reaches down to spread herself open for his mouth. Her clit is swollen for him, begging him to wrap his lips around it and suck until she screams. He holds it between his lips rolling his tongue until her thighs press tight around his ears and her voice is raw, tearing from her chest, his name like release. He doesn’t give her time to come down.

“Baby, ask me to let you change into something sexier. Beg for it.”

He’s not even sure she hears him, his voice it that low and gravelly.

“Ben, please, baby, let me wear the new thong I got for you. It’s so tight and silky. Please let me wear it for you, while you fuck me.”

She’s so good at this, at knowing the exact inflection he wants from her voice. He turns her over on the bed so her ass is sticking up in the air and her face is buried in the pillows.

“No,” he tells her, palming his cock, “you’ll take it like this, in these huge fucking panties. You’ll take it any way I want.”

He pulls the material down her thighs, it stretches easily between her spread knees. Rey grunts when he shoves inside her, the pressure of her tight walls making him stutter. He can do this. He can keep this up until she comes again. For a moment, he aims for that spot, the one that makes her shriek. But it’s obvious after a minute that he won’t have time for that. Instead, he bends over her, reaches between her legs, and dips into the flood of her. She’s wetter than she’s ever been, moaning at just the barest brush of his finger.

Fuck. He’s gonna come. His hips crash into her. He can feel the bump of her cervix with every thrust. She’s curving her back, trying to give him more room in her tiny cunt, but she can’t adjust to him, no matter the angle. He’s too big for her. He’s always been too big for that tiny hole wrapped in swathes of fabric that are also too big.

He lifts her knees off the bed, holding her aloft with his fingers digging into her skin.

“Aaaahhh, Ben… Please!”

She’s screaming. That’s his cue. He pumps hard, foregoing his grip on her hips so he can hook his fingers around her shoulders. He yanks her down, shoving into her with a force he’s only dreamt about. She’ll be sore for days. She’ll feel him there tomorrow when she wanders to the delicatessen to buy the Portuguese tarts she insists on for Saturdays on the balcony. She’ll think about these heart-shaped granny pants for the rest of the fucking month.

“Ben! Fuck!”

She’s clenching, milking him, forcing him to come regardless of his effort to keep this up. He leans over her and presses his chin to her shoulder. Ben listens to her come, feels it, fucks into it. His orgasm is like a flare. He roars with it, feral, at the headboard.

After, he pulls her into him, curls his thighs into the backs of hers.

“Ben?” she asks him, sounding dazed and sleepy, “I thought you liked suspenders? I bought a pair with pink bows for your birthday. Should I bring them back?”

He licks the stripe of her shoulder blade, punctuates it with a kiss at her jaw.

“No, baby. I like those too. I like you in all your pretty knickers but, for my birthday, will you wear the beige ones with the hole in the gusset?”

She snorts and settles back into his chest with her finger planted over her lips. He nudges her, an unspoken command to tell him what’s so funny.

“Those used to be white.”

Ben’s cock twitches.

**Author's Note:**

> When [RedRoseWhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite) created this prompt, I'm certain she was not expecting me to email her, hammered drunk, at 3a.m. asking her to beta it. But, instead of immediately unfriending me, she actually provided her usual lovely supportive and astute comments so huge thanks from a very hungover me today. 
> 
> To the Reylo Creatives GC - you are wonderful and I'm super sorry about all those drunk comments! hahaha! 
> 
> Yes, this is the most explicit thing I have ever written - Don't worry, I've been punished with the worst hangover so it's all good.
> 
> Thanks a million for reading!


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